THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA

By Charles Egbert Craddock

1911

Gordon never forgot the sensation he experienced on first beholding it. There was no mist in the midnight.
The moon was large and low. The darkness of the dense, towering forests on either hand impinged in no wise
on the melancholy realm of wan light in which the Mississippi lay, unshadowed, solitary, silent as always, its
channel here a mile or more in breadth.

He had been observing how the mighty water-course was sending out its currents into a bayou, called Bogue
Holauba, as if the larger stream were a tributary of the lesser. This peculiarity of the river in the deltaic region,
to throw off volume instead of continually receiving affluents, was unaccustomed to him, being a stranger to
the locality, and for a moment it focussed his interest The next, his every faculty was concentrated on a
singular phenomenon on the bank of the bogue.

He caught his breath with a gasp; then, without conscious volition, he sought to explain it to his own shocked
senses, to realize it as some illusion, some combination of natural causes, the hour, the pallor pervading the
air, the distance, for his boat was near the middle of the stream,—but the definiteness of the vision annulled
his efforts.

There on the broad, low margin, distinct, yet with a coercive conviction of unreality, the figure of a man
drawn in lines of vague light paced slowly to and fro; an old man, he would have said, bent and wizened,
swaying back and forth, in expressive contortions, a very pantomime of woe, wringing gaunt hands and arms
above his head, and now and again bowing low in recurrent paroxysms of despair. The wind held its breath,
and the river, mute as ever, made no sign, and the encompassing alluvial wilderness stood for a type of
solitude. Only the splashing of the paddle of the "dug-out" gave token of the presence of life in all the land.

Gordon could not restrain his wonder. "What—what—is—that Thing—over there on the bank of the bogue?"
he called out to the negro servant who was paddling the canoe.

He was all unprepared for the effect of his words. Indeed, he was fain to hold hard to the gunwales. For the
negro, with a sudden galvanic start, let slip the paddle from his hand, recovering it only by a mighty lunge in a
mechanical impulse of self-preservation. The dug-out, the most tricksy craft afloat, rocked violently in the
commotion and threatened to capsize. Then, as it finally righted, its course was hastily changed, and under the
impetus of panic terror it went shooting down the river at a tremendous speed.

"Why, what does all this meant" demanded Gordon.

"Don't ye talk ter me, boss!" the boatman, with chattering teeth, adjured his passenger. "Don't ye talk ter me,
boss! Don't tell me ye seed somepin over dar on Bogue Holauba—'kase ef ye do I'se gwine ter turn dis
dug-out upside down an' swim out ter de Arkansas side. I ain't gwine ter paddle dis boat fur no ghost-seer,
sure 's ye are born. I ain't gwine ter have no traffickin' wid ghosts nur ghost-seers nuther. I'd die 'fore de year's
out, sure!"

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 1

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
The sincerity of the servant's fright was attested by the change in his manner. He had been hitherto all
cheerful, though respectful, affability, evidently bidding high for a tip. Now he crouched disconsolate and
sullen in his place, wielding the paddle with all his might, and sedulously holding down his head, avoiding the
stranger's eye.

Gordon felt the whole situation in some sort an affront to his dignity, and the apparition being withdrawn from
view by the changed direction, he was in better case to take account of this,—to revolt at the uncouth
character of the craft and guide sent for him; the absence of any member of his entertainers family to welcome
the visitor, here at their instance and invitation; the hour of the night; the uncanny incident of the inexplicable
apparition,—but when that thought recurred to him he sheered off precipitately from the recollection.

It had the salutary effect of predisposing him to make the best of the situation. Being to a degree a man of the
world and of a somewhat large experience, he began to argue within himself that he could scarcely have
expected a different reception in these conditions. The great river being at the stage known as "dead low
water," steamboat travel was practically suspended for the season, or he could have reached his destination
more directly than by rail. An accident had delayed the train some seven hours, and although the gasoline
launch sent to meet him at the nearest way-station had been withdrawn at nightfall, since he did not arrive, as
his sable attendant informed him, the dug-out had been substituted, with instructions to wait all night, on the
remote chance that he might come, after all.

Nevertheless, it was with an averse, disaffected gaze that he silently watched the summit-line of foliage on
either bank of the river glide slowly along the sky, responsive to the motion of the boat. It seemed a long
monotony of this experience, as he sat listless in the canoe, before a dim whiteness began to appear in a great,
unbroken expanse in the gradually enlarging riparian view—the glister of the moon on the open cotton-bolls
in the fields. The forests were giving way, the region of swamp and bayou. The habitations of man were at
hand, and when at last the dug-out was run in to a plantation landing, and Kenneth Gordon was released from
his cramped posture in that plebeian craft, he felt so averse to his mission, such a frivolous, reluctant distaste
that he marvelled how he was to go through with it at all, as he took his way along the serpentine curves of the
"dirt road," preceded by his guide, still with eyes averted and sullen mien, silently bearing his suit-case.

A few turns, and suddenly a large house came into view, rearing its white facade to the moonlight in the midst
of a grove of magnolia trees, immense of growth, the glossy leaves seeming a-drip with lustre as with dew.
The flight of steps and the wide veranda were here cumbered with potted ferns and foliage plants as
elsewhere, and gave the first suggestion of conformity to the ways of the world that the adventure had yet
borne. The long, broad, silent hall into which he was ushered, lighted only by a kerosene hand-lamp which the
servant carried as he led the way, the stairs which the guest ascended in a mansion of unconscious strangers,
all had teerie intimations, and the comfort and seclusion of the room assigned to Gordon was welcome indeed
to him; for, argue as he might, he was conscious of a continuous and acute nervous strain. He had had a shock,
he was irritably aware, and he would be glad of rest and quiet.

It was a large, square, comfortable room in one of the wings, overlooking a garden, which sent up a delectable
blend of fragrance and dew through the white muslin curtains at the long, broad windows, standing open to
the night. On a table, draped with the inevitable "drawn-work" of civilization, stood a lamp of finer fashion,
but no better illuminating facilities, than the one carried off by the darky, who had made great haste to leave
the room, and who had not lifted his eyes toward the ill-omened "ghost-seer" nor spoken a word since Gordon
had blurted out his vision on Bogue Holauba. This table also bore a tray with crackers and sandwiches and a
decanter of sherry, which genially intimated hospitable forethought. The bed was a big four-poster, which no
be-dizenment could bring within the fashion of the day. Gordon had a moment's poignant recoil from the
darkness, the strangeness, the recollection of the inexplicable apparition he had witnessed, as his head sank on
the pillow, embroidered after the latest fads.

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 2

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
He could see through the open window that the moon was down at last and the world abandoned to gloom. He
heard from out some neighboring swamp the wild lamenting cry of the crane; and then, listen as he might, the
night had lapsed to silence, and the human hearts in this house, all unknown to him, were as unimagined, as
unrelated, as unresponsive, as if instead of a living, breathing home he lay in some mute city of the dead.

The next moment, as it seemed, a sky as richly azure as the boasted heavens of Italy filled his vision as he
lifted himself on his elbow. A splendid, creamy, magnolia bloom was swaying in the breeze, almost touching
the window-sill. There was a subdued, respectful knocking at the door, which Gordon had a vague idea that he
had heard before this morning, preceding the announcement that breakfast was waiting. Tardily mindful of his
obligations as guest, he made all the speed possible in his toilet, and soon issued into the hall, following the
sound of voices through the open doors, which led him presently to the threshold of the breakfast-room.

There were two ladies at the table, one of venerable aspect, with short, white curls, held from her face by
side-combs, a modish breakfast-cap, and a morning-gown of thin gray silk. The other was young enough to be
her daughter, as indeed she was, dressed in deep mourning. Rising instantly from her place as hostess behind
the silver service, she extended her hand to the stranger.

"Mr. Gordon, is it not? I was afraid you would arrive during the night. Mercy! So uncomfortable! How good
of you to come—yes, indeed."

She sank into her chair again, pressing her black-bordered handkerchief to her dark eyes, which seemed to
Gordon singularly dry, round, and glossy—suggestive of chestnuts, in fact. "So good of you to come," she
repeated, "to the house of mourning! Very few people have any talent for woe, Mr. Gordon. These rooms
have housed many guests, but not to weep with us. The stricken deer must weep alone."

She fell to hysterical sobbing, which her mother interrupted by a remonstrant "My dear, my dear!" A blond
young man with a florid cheek and a laughing blue eye, who sat in an easy posture at the foot of the table,
aided the diversion of interest "Won't you introduce me, Mrs. Keene?—or must I take the opportunity to tell
Mr. Gordon that I am Dr. Rigdon, very much at his service."

"Mercy! yes, yes, indeed!" Mrs. Keene acceded as the two young men shook hands; then, evidently perturbed
by her lack of ceremony, she exclaimed pettishly, "Where is Geraldine? She always sees to it that everybody
knows everybody, and that everybody is served at a reception or a tea. I never have to think of such things if
she is in the house."

The allusions seemed to Gordon a bit incongruous with the recent heavy affliction of the household. The
accuracy with which the waves of red hair, of a rich tint that suggested chemicals, undulated about the brow
of the widow, the art with which the mourning-gown brought out all the best points and subdued the defects
of a somewhat clumsy figure, the suspicion of a cosmetic's aid in a dark line, scarcely perceptible yet amply
effective, under the prominent eyes, all contributed to the determination of a lady of forty-five years of age to
look thirty.

"Geraldine is always late for breakfast, but surely she ought to be down by this time," Mrs. Brinn said, with as
much acrimony as a mild old lady could well compass.

"Oh, Geraldine reads half the night," explained Mrs. Keene. "Such an injurious habit! Don't you think so, Mr.
Gordon?"

"Oh, she is all right," expostulated the young physician.

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 3

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

"Geraldine has a constitution of iron, I know," Mrs. Keene admitted. "But, mercy!—to live in books, Mr.
Gordon. Now, I always wanted to live in life,—in the world! I used to tell Mr. Keene"—even she stumbled a
trifle in naming the so recent dead. "I used to tell him that he had buried the best years of my life down here in
the swamp on the plantation."

"Pleasant for Mr. Keene," Gordon thought.

"I wanted to live in life," reiterated Mrs. Keene. "What is a glimpse of New Orleans or the White Sulphur
Springs once in a great while!"

"'This world is but a fleeting show,'" quoted Rigdon, with a palpable effort to laugh off the inappropriate
subject.

"Oh, that is what people always tell the restricted, especially when they are themselves drinking the wine-cup
to the bottom."

"And finding the lees bitter," said Rigdon.

The widow gave an offhand gesture. "You learned that argument from Geraldine—he is nothing but an echo
of Geraldine, Mr. Gordon—now, isn't he, Mamma?" she appealed directly to Mrs. Brinn.

"He seems to have a great respect for Geraldine's opinion," said Mrs. Brinn primly.

"If I may ask, who is this lady who seems to give the law to the community?" inquired Gordon, thinking it
appropriate to show, and really beginning to feel, an interest in the personnel of the entourage. "Am I related
to her, as well as to Mr. Keene?"

"No; Geraldine is one of the Norris family—intimate friends of ours, but not relatives. She often visits here,
and in my affliction and loneliness I begged her to come and stay for several weeks."

Not to be related to the all-powerful Geraldine was something of a disappointment, for although Gordon had
little sentiment or ideality in his mental and moral system, one of his few emotional susceptibilities lay in his
family pride and clannish spirit He felt for his own, and he was touched in his chief altruistic possibility in the
appeal that had brought him hither. To his amazement, Mr. Keene, a second cousin whom he had seldom even
seen, had named him executor of his will, without bond, and in a letter written in the last illness, reaching its
destination indeed after the writer's death, had besought that Gordon would be gracious enough to act, striking
a crafty note in urging the ties of consanguinity.

But for this plea Gordon would have doubtless declined on the score of pressure of business of his own. There
were no nearer relatives, however, and with a sense of obligation at war with a restive indisposition, Gordon
had come in person to this remote region to offer the will for probate, and to take charge of the important
papers and personal property of the deceased. A simple matter it would prove, he fancied. There was no great
estate, and probably but few business complications.

"Going home, Dr. George?" his hostess asked as the young physician made his excuses for quitting the table
before the conclusion of the meal.

"Dr. Bigdon is not staying in the house, then?" Gordon queried as the door closed upon him, addressing the
remark to the old lady by way of politely including her in the conversation.

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 4

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

"No, he is a neighbor of ours—a close and constant friend to us." Mrs. Brinn spoke as with grateful
appreciation.

Mrs. Keene took a different view. "He just hangs about here on Geraldine's account," she said. "He happens to
be here today because last night she took a notion that he must go all the way to Bogue Holauba to meet you,
if the train should stop at the station above; but he was called off to attend a severe case of ptomaine
poisoning."

"And did the man die?" Mrs. Brinn asked, with a sort of soft awe.

"Mercy! I declare I forgot to ask him if the man died or not," exclaimed Mrs. Keene. "But that was the reason
that only a servant was sent to meet you, Mr. Gordon. The doctor looked in this morning to learn if you had
arrived safely, and we made him stay to breakfast with us."

Gordon was regretting that he had let him depart so suddenly.

"I thought perhaps, as he seems so familiar with the place he might show me where Mr. Keene kept his
papers. I ought to have them in hand at once." Mrs. Keene remembered to press her handkerchief to her eyes,
and Gordon hastily added, "Since Dr. Big-don is gone, perhaps this lady—what is her
name?—Geraldine—could save you the trouble."

"Mercy, yes!" she declared emphatically. "For I really do not know where to begin to look. Geraldine will
know or guess. I'll go straight and rouse Geraldine out of bed."

She preceded Gordon into the hall, and, flinging over her shoulder the admonition, "Make yourself at home, I
beg," ran lightly up the stairs.

Meantime Gordon strolled to the broad front door that stood open from morning to night, winter and summer,
and paused there to light his cigar. All his characteristics were accented in the lustre of the vivid day, albeit for
the most part they were of a null, negative tendency, for he had an inexpressive, impersonal manner and a sort
of aloof, reserved dignity. His outward aspect seemed rather the affair of his up-to-date metropolitan tailor and
barber than any exponent of his character and mind. He was not much beyond thirty years of age, and his
straight, fine, dark hair was worn at the temples more by the fluctuations of stocks than the ravages of time.
He was pale, of medium height, and slight of build; he listened with a grave, deliberate attention and an
inscrutable gray eye, very steady, coolly observant, an appreciable asset in the brokerage business. He was all
unaccustomed to the waste of time, and it was with no slight degree of impatience that he looked about him.

The magnolia grove filled the space to the half-seen gate in front of the house, but away on either side were
long vistas. To the right the river was visible, and, being one of the great bends of the stream, it seemed to run
directly to the west, the prospect only limited by the horizon line. On the other side, a glare, dazzlingly white
in the sun, proclaimed the cotton-fields. Afar the gin-house showed, with its smoke-stack, like an obeliscal
column, from which issued heavy coils of vapor, and occasionally came the raucous grating of a screw, telling
that the baler was at work. Interspersed throughout the fields were the busy cotton-pickers, and now and again
rose snatches of song as they heaped the great baskets in the turn-rows.

Within the purlieus of the inclosure about the mansion there was no stir of industry, no sign of life, save
indeed an old hound lying on the veranda steps, looking up with great, liquid, sherry-tinted eyes at the
stranger, and, though wheezing a wish to lick his hand, unable to muster the energy to rise.

After an interval of a few moments Gordon turned within. He felt that he must forthwith get at the papers and
set this little matter in order. He paused baffled at the door of the parlor, where satin damask and rosewood

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 5

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
furniture, lace curtains and drawn shades, held out no promise of repositories of business papers. On the
opposite side of the hall was a sitting-room that bore evidence of constant use. Here was a desk of the
old-fashioned kind, with a bookcase as a superstructure, and a writing-table stood in the centre of the floor,
equipped with a number of drawers which were all locked, as a tentative touch soon told. He had not
concluded its examination when a step and rustle behind him betokened a sudden entrance.

"Miss Geraldine Norris!" a voice broke upon the air,—a voice that he had not before heard, and he turned
abruptly to greet the lady as she formally introduced herself.

A veritable Titania she seemed as she swayed in the doorway. She was a little thing, delicately built, slender
yet not thin, with lustrous golden hair, large, well-opened, dark blue eyes, a complexion daintily white and
roseate,—a fairy-like presence indeed, but with a prosaic, matter-of-fact manner and a dogmatic pose of
laying down the law.

Gordon could never have imagined himself so disconcerted as when she advanced upon him with the caustic
query, "Why did you not ask Mrs. Keene for her husband's keys? Surely that is simple enough!" She flung a
bunch of keys on a steel ring down upon the table. "Heavens! to be roused from my well-earned slumbers at
daybreak to solve this problem! 'Hurryf Hurry! Hurry!'" She mimicked Mrs. Keene's urgency, then broke out
laughing.

"Now," she demanded, all unaffected by his mien of surprised and offended dignity, "do you think yourself
equal to the task of fitting these keys,—or shall I lend you my strong right arm!"

It is to be doubted if Gordon had ever experienced such open ridicule as when she came smiling up to the
table, drawing back the sleeve of her gown from her delicate dimpled wrist. She wore a white dress, such as
one never sees save in that Southern country, so softly sheer, falling in such graceful, floating lines, with a
deep, plain hem and no touch of garniture save, perhaps, an edge of old lace on the surplice neck. The cut of
the dress showed a triangular section of her soft white chest and all the firm modelling of her throat and chin.
It was evidently not a new gown, for a rent in one of the sleeves had been sewed up somewhat too obviously,
anil there was a darn on the shoulder where a rose-bush had snagged the fabric. A belt of black velvet, with
long, floating sash-ends, was about her waist, and a band of black velvet held in place her shining hair.

"I am sorry to have been the occasion of disturbing you," he said with stiff formality, "and I am very much
obliged, certainly," he added, as he took up the keys.

"I may consider myself dismissed from the presence?" she asked saucily. "Then, I will permit myself a cup of
chocolate and a roll, and be ready for any further commands."

She frisked out of the door, and, frowning heavily, he sat down to the table and opened the top-drawer, which
yielded instantly to the first key that he selected.

The first paper, too, on which he laid his hand was the will, signed and witnessed, regularly executed, all its
provisions seeming, as he glanced through it, reasonable and feasible. As he laid it aside, he experienced the
business man's satisfaction with a document duly capable of the ends desired. Then he opened with a sudden
flicker of curiosity a bulky envelope placed with the will and addressed to himself. He read it through, the
natural interest on his face succeeded by amazement, increasing gradually to fear, the chill drops starting from
every pore. He had grown ghastly white before he had concluded the perusal, and for a long time he sat as
motionless as if turned to stone.

The September day glowed outside in sumptuous splendor. A glad wind sprang up and sped afield. Geraldine,
her breakfast finished, a broad hat canted down over her eyes, rushed through the hall as noisily as a boy,

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 6

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
prodded up the old hound, and ran him a race around the semicircle of the drive. A trained hound he had been
in his youth, and he was wont to conceal and deny certain ancient accomplishments. But even he realized that
it was waste of breath to say nay to the persistent Geraldine. He resigned himself to go through all his
repertoire,—was a dead dog, begged, leaped a stick back and forth, went lame, and in his newly awakened
interest performed several tricks of which she had been unaware. Her joyful cries of commendation—"Played
an encore! an encore! He did, he did! Cutest old dog in the United States!" caught Mrs. Keene's attention.

"Geraldine," she screamed from an upper window, "come in out of the sun! You will have a sun-stroke—and
ruin your complexion besides! You know you ought to be helping that man with those papers,—he won't be
able to do anything without you!" Her voice quavered on the last words, as if she suddenly realized "that man"
might overhear her,—as indeed he did. But he made no sign. He sat still, stultified and stony, silently gazing
at the paper in his hands.

When luncheon was announced, Gordon asked to have something light sent in to him, as he wished not to be
disturbed in his investigation of the documents. He had scant need to apprehend interruption, however, while
the long afternoon wore gradually away. The universal Southern siesta was on, and the somnolent mansion
was like the castle of Sleeping Beauty. The ladies had sought their apartments and the downy couches; the
cook, on a shady bench under the trellis, nodded as she seeded the raisins for the frozen pudding of the
six-o'clock dinner; the waiter had succumbed in clearing the lunch-table and made mesmeric passes with the
dish-rag in a fantasy of washing the plates; the stable-boy slumbered in the hay, high in the loft, while the fat
old coachman, with a chamois-skin in his hand, dozed as he sat on the step of the surrey, between the fenders;
the old dog snored on the veranda floor, and Mrs. Keene's special attendant, who was really more a seamstress
than a ladies' maid, dreamed that for some mysterious reason she could not thread a needle to fashion in a vast
hurry the second mourning of her employer, who she imagined would call for it within a week!

Outside the charmed precincts of this Castle Indolence, the busy cotton-pickers knew no pause nor stay. The
steam-engine at the gin panted throughout all the long hot hours, the baler squealed and rasped and groaned,
as it bound up the product into marketable compass, but there was no one waking near enough to note how the
guest of the mansion was pacing the floor in a stress of nervous excitement, and to comment on the fact.

Toward sunset, a sudden commotion roused the slumbrous place. There had been an accident at the gin,—a
boy had been caught in the machinery and variously mangled. Dr. George Eigdon had been called and had
promptly sewed up the wounds. A runner had been sent to the mansion for bandages, brandy, fresh clothing,
and sundry other collateral necessities of the surgery, and the news had thrown the house into unwonted
excitement.

"The boy won't die, then?" Geraldine asked of a second messenger, as he stood by the steps of the veranda,
waiting for the desired commodities.

"Lawdy,—no, ma'am! He is as good as new! Doc' George, he fix him up."

Gordon, whom the tumult had summoned forth from his absorptions, noted Geraldine's triumphant laugh as
she received this report, the toss of her spirited little head, the light in her dark blue eyes, deepening to
sapphire richness, her obvious pride in the skill, the humanitarian achievement, of her lover. Dr. George must
be due here this evening, he fancied. For she was all freshly bedight; her gown was embellished with delicate
laces, and its faint green hue gave her the aspect of some water-sprite, posed against that broad expanse of the
Mississippi River, that was itself of a jade tint reflected from a green and amber sky; at the low horizon line
the vermilion sun was sinking into its swirling depths.

Gordon perceived a personal opportunity in the prospect of this guest for the evening. He must have counsel,
he was thinking. He could not act on his own responsibility in this emergency that had suddenly confronted

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 7

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
him. He was still too overwhelmed by the strange experience he had encountered, too shaken. This physician
was a man of intelligence, of skill in his chosen profession, necessarily a man worth while in many ways. He
was an intimate friend of the Keene family, and might the more heartily lend a helping hand. The thought, the
hope, cleared Gordon's brow, but still the impress of the stress of the afternoon was so marked that the girl
was moved to comment in her brusque way as they stood together on the cool, fern-embowered veranda.

"Why, Mr. Gordon," she exclaimed in surprise, "you have no idea how strange you look! You must have
overworked awfully this afternoon. Why, you look as if you had seen a ghost!"

To her amazement, he recoiled abruptly. Involuntarily, he passed his hand over his face, as if seeking to
obliterate the traces she had deciphered. Then, with an obvious effort, he recovered a show of equanimity; he
declared that it was only because he was so tousled in contrast with her fresh finery that she thought he looked
supernaturally horrible! He would go upstairs forthwith and array himself anew.

Gordon proved himself a true prophet, for Rigdon came to dine. With the postprandial cigars, the two
gentlemen, at Gordon's suggestion, repaired to the sitting-room to smoke, instead of joining their hostess on
the veranda, where tobacco was never interdicted. Indeed, they did not come forth thence for nearly two
hours, and were palpably embarrassed when Geraldine declared in bewilderment, gazing at them in the
lamplight that fell from within, through one of the great windows, that now both looked as if they had seen a
ghost!

Despite their efforts to sustain the interest of the conversation, they were obviously distrait, and had a
proclivity to fall into sudden silences, and Mrs. Keene found them amazingly unresponsive and dull. Thus it
was that she rose as if to retire for the night while the hour was still early. In fact, she intended to utilize the
opportunity to have some dresses of the first mourning outfit tried on, for which the patient maid was now
awaiting her.

"I leave you a charming substitute," she said in making her excuses. "Geraldine need not come in
yet—it is not late."

Her withdrawal seemed to give a fresh impetus to some impulse with which Rigdon had been temporizing. He
recurred to it at once. "You contemplate giving it to the public," he said to Gordon; "why not try its effect on a
disinterested listener first, and judge from that?"

Gordon assented with an extreme gravity that surprised Geraldine; then Rigdon hesitated, evidently scarcely
knowing how to begin. He looked vaguely at the moon riding high in the heavens above the long, broad
expanse of the Mississippi and the darkling forests on either hand. Sometimes a shaft of light, a sudden
luminous glister, betokened the motion of the currents gliding in the sheen. "Last night," he said in a tense,
bated voice—"last night Mr. Gordon saw the phantom of Bogue Holauba, Stop! Hush!"—for the
girl had sprung half screaming from her chair. "This is important." He laid his hand on her arm to detain her.
"We want you to help us!"

"Help you! Why, you scare me to death!" She had paused, but stood trembling from head to foot.

"There is something explained in one of Mr. Keene's papers,—addressed to Mr. Gordon; and we have
been much startled by the coincidence of his—his vision."

"Did he see—really——?" Geraldine had sunk back in her chair, her face ghastly pale.

"Of course it must be some illusion," said Rigdon. "The effect of the mist, perhaps——"

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 8

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

"Only, there was no mist," said Gordon.

"Perhaps a snag waving in the wind."

"Only, there was no wind."

"Perhaps a snag tossing in the motion of the water,—at all events, you can't say there was no water."
Dr. Rigdon glanced at Gordon with a genial smile.

"Mighty little water for the Mississippi," Gordon sought to respond in the same key.

"You know the record of these apparitions." Leaning forward, one arm on his knee, the document in question
in his hand, Rigdon looked up into Geraldine's pale face. "In the old days there used to be a sort of
water-gypsy, with a queer little trading-boat that plied the region of the bends—a queer little old man,
too—Polish, I think, foreign certainly—and the butt of all the wags alongshore, at the stores and
the wood-yards, the cotton-sheds and the wharf-boats. By some accident, it was thought, the boat got away
when he was befuddled with drink in a wood-chopper's cabin—a stout, trig little craft it was! When he
found it was gone, he was wild, for although he saw it afloat at a considerable distance down the Mississippi,
it suddenly disappeared near Bogue Holauba, cargo and all. No trace of its fate was ever discovered. He
haunted these banks then—whatever he may have done since—screaming out his woes for his
losses, and his rage and curses on the miscreants who had set the craft adrift—for he fully believed it
was done in malice—beating his breast and tearing his hair. The Civil War came on presently, and the
man was lost sight of in the national commotions. No one thought of him again till suddenly
something—an apparition, an illusion, the semblance of a man—began to patrol the banks of
Bogue Holauba, and beat its breast and tear its hair and bewail its woes in pantomime, and set the whole
country-side aghast, for always disasters follow its return."

"And how do you account for that phase?" asked Gordon, obviously steadying his voice by an effort of the
will.

"The apparition always shows up at low water,—the disasters are usually typhoid," replied the
physician.

"Mr. Keene died from malaria,"

Geraldine murmured musingly.

The two men glanced significantly at each other. Then Rigdon resumed: "I mustered the hardihood on one
occasion to row up to the bank of Bogue Holauba for a closer survey. The thing vanished on my approach.
There was a snag hard by, fast anchored in the bottom of the Bogue. It played slackly to and fro with the
current, but I could not see any way by which it or its shadow could have produced the illusion."

"Is this what you had to tell me?" demanded Geraldine pertinently. "I knew all that already."

"No, no," replied the Doctor reluctantly. "Will you tell it, Mr. Gordon, or shall I?"

"You, by all means, if you will," said Gordon gloomily. "God knows I should be glad never to speak of it."

"Well," Rigdon began slowly, "Mr. Gordon was made by his cousin Jasper Keene not only the executor of his
will, but the repository of a certain confession, which he may destroy or make public as he sees proper. It
seems that in Mr. Keene's gay young days, running wild in his vacation from college on a secluded plantation,

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 9

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
he often lacked congenial companionship, and he fell in with an uncouth fellow of a lower social grade, who
led him into much detrimental adventure. Among other incidents of very poor fun, the two were notable in
hectoring and guying the old Polish trader, who, when drunk on mean whisky as he often was, grew violent
and antagonistic. He went very far in his denunciations one fatal night, and by way of playing him a trick in
return, they set his boat adrift by cutting the rope that tied the craft to a tree on the bank. The confession states
that they supposed the owner was then aboard and would suffer no greater hardship than having to use the
sweeps with considerable energy to row her in to a landing again. They were genuinely horrified when he
came running down the bank, both arms out-stretched, crying out that his all, his all was floating away on that
tumultutius, merciless tide. Before any skiff could be launched, before any effort could be made to reach the
trading-boat, she suddenly disappeared. The Mississippi was at flood height, and it was thought that the boat
struck some drifting obstruction, swamped, and went down in deep water. The agents in this disaster were
never suspected, but as soon as Jasper Keene had come of age, and had command of any means of his own,
his first act was to have an exhaustive search made for the old fellow, with a view of financial restitution. But
the owner of the trading-boat had died, spending his last years in the futile effort to obtain the insurance
money. As the little he had left was never claimed, no representative could profit by the restitution that Jasper
Keene had planned, and he found what satisfaction he could in giving it secretly to an old man's charity. Then
the phantom began to take his revenge. He appeared on the banks of Bogue Holauba, and straightway the only
child of the mansion sickened and died. Mr. Keene's first wife died after the second apparition. Either it was
the fancy of an ailing man, or perhaps the general report, but he notes that the spectre was bewailing its woes
along the banks of Bogue Holauba when Jasper Keene himself was stricken by an illness which from the first
he felt was fatal."

"I remember—I remember it was said at the time," Geraldine barely whispered.

"And now to the question: he leaves it to Mr. Gordon as his kinsman, solicitous of the family repute, to judge
whether this confession should be made public or destroyed."

"Does he state any reasons for making it public?" demanded Geraldine, taking the document and glancing
through its pages.

"Yes; as an expiation of his early misdeeds toward this man and, if any such thing there be, to placate the
spirit of his old enemy; and lastly better to secure his peace with his Maker."

"And which do you say!" Geraldine turned an eager, spirited face toward Gordon, his dejected attitude and
countenance distinctly seen in the light from the lamp within the parlor, on a table close to the window.

"I frankly admit that the publication of that confession would humiliate me to the ground, but I fear that it
ought to be given to the public, as he obviously desires!"

"And which do you say!" Geraldine was standing now, and swiftly whirled around toward Dr. Bigdon.

"I agree with Mr. Gordon—much against my will—but an honest confession is good for the
soul!" he, replied ruefully.

"You infidels!" she exclaimed tumultuously. "You have not one atom of Christian faith between you! To
imagine that you can strike a bargain with the good God by letting a sick theory of expiation of a dying,
fever-distraught creature besmirch his repute as a man and a gentleman, make his whole life seem like a
whited sepulchre, and bring his name into odium,—as kind a man as ever lived,—and you know
it!—as honest, and generous, and whole-souled, to be held up to scorn and humiliation because of a
boyish prank forty years ago, that precipitated a disaster never intended,—bad enough, silly enough,
even wicked enough, but not half so bad and silly and wicked as you, with your morbid shrinking from moral

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 10

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

responsibility, and your ready contributive defamation of character. Tell me, you men, is this a testamentary
paper, and you think it against the law to destroy it!"

"No, no, not that," said Bigdon.

"No, it is wholly optional," declared Gordon.

"Then, I will settle the question for you once for all, you wobblers!" She suddenly thrust the paper into the
chimney of the lamp on the table just within the open window, and as it flared up she flung the document
forth, blazing in every fibre, on the bare driveway below the veranda. "And now you may find, as best you
can, some other means of exorcising the phantom of Bogue Holauba!"

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Phantom Of Bogue Holauba, by

Charles Egbert Craddock (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA ***

***** This file should be named 23552-h.htm or 23552-h.zip *****

This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/5/5/23552/

Produced by David Widger

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions

will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 11

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

subject to the trademark license, especially commercial

redistribution.

*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free

distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm

electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm

electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be

used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"

or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 12

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived

from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted

with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm

License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 13

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this

electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,

performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing

access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any

money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 14

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock

electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days

of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm

electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable

effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right

of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a

defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 15

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied

warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of

electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the

assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive

Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit

501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 16

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.

Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org

For additional contact information:

Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg

Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide

spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating

charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we

have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make

any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 17

 The Phantom of Bogue Holauba, by Charles Egbert Craddock
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic

works.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm

concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed

editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

http://www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,

including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA 18